Fic: The Time Has Come to Be Gone 3/5
Rossi tightened the handcuffs roughly. Sam Winchester wouldn’t get away this time-he and his brother were finally going to pay for all the suffering they’d caused over the years.
The tall man wasn’t what he had been expected. Six foot six didn’t sound too much taller than his own five-eleven on paper, but in person Sam Winchester towered over him, Morgan too for that matter. The younger Winchester was fit, like his brother, but Sam was lean where his brother was bulky. And all that size did very little to disguise the fact that Sam was young. “This guy is younger than Reid,” Rossi thought distractedly.
Of course, Reid wasn’t a murdering scumbag, so beyond youth and height, the comparisons stopped there. Rossi pushed Winchester to move him away from the body. The man hadn’t stopped talking since the agents had discovered him, sawed-off shotgun in hand, standing over the body of their missing Park Ranger, Joan Ross.
Along with the usual “this isn’t what it looks like” and “you don’t understand what really happened,” Rossi had particularly enjoyed, “she isn’t human-no really, you have to believe me!”
That last statement was telling. Rossi figured that somewhere between Winchester’s mother’s death, a complete dearth of female mentor figures, being raised by a man no doubt in the throws of a psychotic break, and constantly companioned by a brother with psychotic urges, Sam Winchester came to view women as inferior, inhuman creatures.
And Henricksen had thought he was the lesser of the two evils.
Rossi started to walk Winchester back towards the parked SUVs. Without cell reception, someone would have to stay with the body until they could get back into range to call the station. Morgan and JJ had apparently realized the same thing; Rossi could hear a game of “who owes who more favors” being played quietly behind him.
A clap of thunder filled the previously tranquil night air. Winchester flinched and stopped to look around warily.
“You’re afraid of thunder?” JJ asked incredulously.
“No,” Winchester responded defensively. “Just what comes with thunder in this town.”
Rossi couldn’t see Morgan, but he could almost hear his eyebrow rise quizzically.
Never one to turn down a chance to get a better understanding of a suspect’s mind, Rossi asked, “What do you mean by that Sam?”
The tall man started forward again, surprising Rossi who had to take a few quick steps to remain leading. His gun was out, but he didn’t want to take any chances-even with Winchester’s hands cuffed.
“You didn’t notice the fact that Angela Martin, Lizzie Brown, and Amber-lynn Gordon all died during thunder storms?” Winchester responded.
“That was the work of an arsonist, Henry Davis-“ Morgan started to explain.
“Not in the way you think,” Winchester interrupted. “Davis and Ross over there are, or used to be in Ross’ case, Thunderbirds.”
“They’re Fords?” Rossi asked doubtfully.
“No.”
Looking behind him, Rossi could see the expression on Winchester’s face clearly implied “you dolt.”
“Native American and First Nation tribes across the United States and Canada have stories of supernatural birds of power, strength, and extraordinary strength. They’re depicted as intelligent, power, and wrathful. When they beat their wings they create the sound of thunder. They create winds and control rainfall, thunder, and lightning,” Winchester explained.
“I don’t know,” JJ replied. “Both Davis and Ross don’t look much like birds.”
Both she and Morgan were following Rossi to the car. Either they hadn’t come to a decision of who would stay with the body or they wanted to hear Winchester’s delusions explained.
Winchester sighed. “The Kwakwaka'wakw and Cowichan tribes believed that the Thunderbirds could take human form. The Thunderbird just tilts its beak back, removes its feathers like a blanket and it’s good to go.”
“Let me make sure I’ve got this straight,” Morgan demanded incredulously. “Davis is actually a giant mythological bird who has the power to turn into a human. And has been using this power to burn down the houses of local nurses by tampering with their wiring.”
“Kind of,” Winchester replied calmly. “Only, we think he killed them by throwing lightning at their houses-Thunderbirds control all aspects of storms. He’d be able to call one up whenever he wanted, then just wait till he’s sure they’re inside and chuck lightning at them.”
“So how does Ross tie into this?” Rossi asked curiously.
“Did you know that over ninety percent of bird species are monogamous?” Winchester answered. “Thunderbirds also have a pair bond, and Ross and Davis were bonded.”
He continued his strange explanation. “Of course, we didn’t know who Davis was bonded with when we realized he was killing all those women. Just thought there’d be another one in the area given the recent problem they’ve been having with missing hikers. Thunderbirds are carnivorous, by the way. Some stories have them eating whales, others humans. Apparently these two liked people better.” Winchester shrugged, as if there was no accounting for taste.
“Sam,” JJ asked quietly. “We were supposed to meet another police officer here, Officer Campbell. Did you do anything to her?”
“How do you think I realized Ross was a Thunderbird?” Winchester replied. At their blank looks, he explained further. “I guess Ross needed a midnight snack.”
He gestured with his head to the north. “You’ll find what’s left of her over there.”
* * * * * *
Prentiss could hear Hotch and Reid peppering Dean with questions, but couldn’t bring herself to care about his answers. The demon had shown her it was all too real. Emily shuddered in remembrance of its dark touch; it stripped her down to her core, forcing her to relive her darkest and vilest memories over and over again. She remembered its dark laugh when it let her watch what it was doing in her body-lying to Rossi to ensure all the able-bodied agents would leave the station, toying with Winchester, hurling the harshest insults it could find in her thoughts at her teammates.
How were they going to trust her again after this?
She and Reid had been slowly repairing their friendship over their mutual love for British science-fiction television and spy movies. Reid had been one of the first to welcome her to the team three years ago, but his struggle with addiction destroyed their fledgling friendship quickly.
And now she had thrown it back in his face.
She didn’t even want to think about how long it would take for him to forgive her for bringing up his mother. Or for mocking his fear that he might one day develop the same schizophrenia that destroyed his mother’s life.
She drew her arms around herself protectively. She tried to listen to the conversation between her coworkers and the Hunter. She didn’t want to think about what it had shown her of her own fate.
“Who was that woman?” Hotch asked again. Apparently Dean had been ignoring him while playing with the balance of his new sword.
“Anna’s an angel,” Dean replied simply.
Prentiss remembered the demon’s sharp fear when the petite redhead had suddenly appeared. At the time she couldn’t understand why the slight and almost fragile looking woman could scare the creature that controlled her every movement, but then Anna started walking towards her.
The demon had loosened control on her body, and Prentiss had wanted to get away from the newcomer. The previously human image continued to be stripped away the longer the redhead remained in the room, leaving a figure of terrible brightness in the interrogation room. As it had steadily advanced, Prentiss remembered the fierce joy that filled her body-the foul thing would get what it deserved.
It had placed a hand on her head and freed her with a single word.
“When Prentiss there was touched by an angel, it killed Meg-the demon possessing her,” Dean continued.
“It hurt,” she whispered. “It clawed and it fought.”
“That sucks,” Dean responded. “You’re lucky, though. Usually the demons wear their hosts to the bone before they leave-and the host dies once they check out.”
“So why did the angel show up?” Hotch questioned.
“Hell if I know,” Dean responded. “They aren’t exactly the fuzzy bunnies shown on ‘Touched by an Angel.’ Most of ‘em are douches.”
“Still,” he continued, “Anna’s helped me and Sam out a couple times. I guess she must have been in the area and wanted to kick some demon ass.”
“She was in the area?” Hotch repeated incredulously. “A biblical being of light and a messenger of God just decided to visit Jackson, Missouri and pass the time by killing a demon and giving you a sword?”
“Their reputation has been highly exaggerated,” Winchester responded.
“It was terrified of her,” Prentiss added. She shifted uncomfortably on the floor. “The demon, I mean, it was terrified of her.”
Winchester held up a hand, “I’m not saying they’re not powerful, just that they aren’t the cute naked babies of puppies and sunshine everyone thinks.” He suddenly focused his attention on Prentiss and changed the subject brusquely. “How much were you awake for? Meg claimed twenty minutes back there, but she was a fucking liar.”
Reeling, it took Prentiss a moment to respond. “It felt like forever…it got me just before I started interviewing you.”
“Why do you refer to it as ‘Meg’?” Reid asked curiously. “Prentiss doesn’t.”
“Meg was the name of her host when we first met,” Dean explained. He started to pace up and down the linoleum hallway.
“What happened to her?” Reid questioned.
“Managed to catch Meg and exorcise her, but by that point the girl’s body was too damaged. She died.” Winchester shot them an unreadable look. “As I said, as much as it sucks, you’re pretty lucky.”
He stared to play with the sword again, this time switching it from hand to hand aimlessly. “I gotta take a leak,” he announced before bounding down the hallway and taking a quick left.
“Don’t get any ideas,” Hotch warned his quickly retreating back. He turned to his two agents, surveying them quickly.
It wasn’t pretty. Hotch’s shoulder throbbed angrily, reminding him he needed medical attention, Reid was crutches and looked to be having a metaphysical crisis of faith, and Prentiss was shell-shocked.
“You two stay here for a moment, I’m going to try to find Officer Jones-he was supposed to be in an office somewhere finishing paperwork,” Hotch said. “Though I’m still not sure how to explain this.”
Prentiss and Reid were alone in the hallway. “I keep thinking back to that case in March,” Prentiss whispered to Reid. “I was so sure that Father Silvano killed those men…” her voice trailed off. “He said we made the world a more dangerous place. My god, what if he was right? What if he really was helping those families and we stopped him?”
“I’m not sure,” Reid replied softly, awkwardly sliding down the wall to join her sitting on the floor. “All the victims were restrained. You, sorry, it was strong. I’m not sure that ropes alone would have been enough if they were truly possessed. Plus, we didn’t see any designs like that,” Reid pointed to the red sharpie circle decorating the interrogation room’s ceiling.
“It never even crossed my mind that he could be helping those families,” Prentiss confessed guiltily. “All I could think was that this was the Catholic Church, coming in to take advantage of those family’s fears. Trying to bring the sheep back into the fold.”
“They did that to me, you know?” It was as if she couldn’t control the words coming out of her mouth. If she could, she wouldn’t have picked Reid to confide in-not about this. But she couldn’t keep its voice out of her head, telling her that Father Gamino was right about her all those years ago. The images it had shown her of where she would go to pay for her sins. Talking drowned those images and words, and Reid was a sympathetic, if slightly unfitting, listener.
“They told me that if I didn’t do it their way, I’d be inviting the devil into me,” she breathed in raggedly. “Maybe they did know something after all.”
“Emily,” Reid started, gripping her shoulder tightly. “I know you. I can’t say I knew you then, but I know you now. There’s no way you would ever invite this. You’re a good person.”
It wasn’t enough, but it was a start. Prentiss and Reid sat in the dark hallway for a long moment, simply breathing in and out.
“I hurt my knee playing DDR with Garcia,” Reid blurted out suddenly.
Emily looked at him strangely. “DDR?” she asked.
“It’s a video game,” he mumbled.
She hunched over, her shoulders shaking slightly at first, then heavily. Her howls of laughter filled the air. Reid would have been concerned with the slightly hysterical twinge if he hadn’t been sure his own laughter was reflecting the same pitch.
After a beat, Reid turned to Prentiss. “Emily, Winchester said he was going to the bathroom, right?”
At her nod, he asked, “Then why did he turn to go towards the holding cell?”
* * * * * *
“Remind me again how Rossi managed to pull guarding Winchester while we got stuck combing the forest for Campbell?” Morgan asked JJ after stumbling over yet another tree root. Though the moon was full, the foliage was dense and far too many shadows hid tree roots, rocks, and other fun surprises that continued to remind Morgan’s knees why he had quit college football.
“Because he’s a crafty bastard sometimes?” JJ replied crankily.
“Sometimes?” Morgan asked as he poked a bush experimentally with his boot.
“Good point,” JJ acknowledged. “Nothing over here, ready to move up?”
Rossi had asked them to do a quick grid search while he started to question Winchester. While they had initially planned to bring Winchester in immediately and leave a team member, most likely Morgan himself, to secure the scene, JJ suggested a quick grid search. By examining Winchester’s dumpsite, they could start to build a profile for Sam.
Morgan let out a disgusted snort. They had spent so much time and energy on Dean Winchester that they had ignored his partner-in-crime. No matter that Henricksen had done the same thing-they were supposed to have approached the St. Louis murders (and the Baltimore murders, and the Milwaukee robbery, and the Green River County escape for that matter) with fresh eyes.
“All set, another ten feet?” Morgan replied. As he cautiously stepped forward, he asked her, “What do you think the deal with the Thunderbird thing is?”
“Winchester’s monster story?” JJ said. “Well, it sounded like it was a Native American myth. Reid said that this area was created in memorial of those who died on the Trail of Tears-maybe it was a Cherokee story? Winchester recognized the area’s significance and tried to find the first monster story that dealt with fire to pin on Davis? I don’t know, isn’t this more your area than mine?”
“Woah, JJ,” Morgan held his hands up defensively. “Didn’t mean to tread on your toes there. Just wondered what you thought, was all.”
“Sorry, it’s just late and I’m missing Henry,” JJ replied sheepishly. “Still nothing, you?”
“Nothing yet,” he replied. He took a few more steps forward and saw a dark shape near a tree a few paces to his left. “Wait, hold on, I think I might have something here.”
As he approached the smell of blood hit his nose sharply. Slowly a body appeared from the darkness, crumpled against the trunk of a large oak. It was a woman, Morgan observed as he drew closer, and she had died very violently. While her face was relatively unscathed, it was locked into an expression of primal fear. Morgan imagined that her arms might have been raised to protect her torso, but her body was too badly mangled to be positive.
A flash of metal caught his eye as he knelt down to examine the women more closely. He picked up a badge gingerly. “JJ, I found her badge-this is Officer Campbell,” he sad sadly.
As JJ hiked through the underbrush, Morgan examined the woman’s ruined torso closely. It was covered in deep gouges, and what was left of the flesh on her forearms was in ribbons. Her holster was empty.
“Hey JJ, can you look around for her gun?” Morgan asked. At her assent, he stood up and began to visualize the scene. “Campbell was hiking, probably trying to find Ross. She’s surprised, but managed to pull her gun out.”
He looked around the forest floor. “I see some shell cases, looks like she got two shots off before being attacked. Though…” he paused to think for a moment.
“What?” JJ asked. “Oh, and no gun yet. That might be something the boys have to find when it’s light out.”
“Officer Campbell was either mauled or tortured extensively with a large knife or machete judging by her wound patterns,” Morgan said slowly.
“And we found Winchester with a gun,” JJ replied. “Do you think he tossed a knife somewhere around here?”
“It’s possible, but if he tortured and killed Campbell, he would have been covered in blood,” Morgan replied. “And he isn’t. Judging by the lividity of the body, she’s only been dead a few hours at most. My guess is under an hour.”
“So he didn’t exactly have time for a shower before killing Ross,” JJ finished. “So who killed Campbell then?”
“I have a theory, but I want to check something out first.” Morgan replied. “I just want to examine Ross’ body one more time.”
Both Morgan and JJ hiked down to where they’d arrested Sam Winchester over Ranger Ross’ still body. After fifteen minutes of brisk walking, they arrived back in the clearing. The temporary cones Morgan had set earlier to mark the crime scene were still perched merrily on adjacent rocks, their florescent orange markings catching the moonlight easily.
Morgan pulled on his spare pair of gloves and delicately turned the body onto its back. They hadn’t wanted to disturb the scene earlier, but Morgan needed to confirm or disprove the niggling idea ringing inside his head.
Ross’ torso was covered in drying blood, which had stained her uniform dark brown in the moonlight.
JJ leaned over his shoulder to see what he was looking at. “Could this be from the gunshot wound?” JJ asked, immediately understanding why Morgan had disturbed the body.
Morgan shook his head. “No, Winchester got a clean head shot. Looks like a through and through. I don’t see any other open wounds-it’s probable that the blood on her torso isn’t hers.”
“Do you think it’s possible that Ross lured Campbell up to the park by calling in fake reports of missing hikers and vandalism?” JJ asked.
“It’s not a bad way to get victims,” Morgan replies. “Though not a good way to avoid detection.”
“So what? Winchester sees Ross attacking Campbell, chases her, then kills her with his shotgun?” JJ theorized.
“It’s possible that he and his brother are vigilantes,” Morgan said slowly, his brain whirling at the possibilities the physical evidence presented. “It would explain why the St. Louis victim is protecting him. And why Detective Ballard vouches for him.”
Morgan started to pace, careful to tread well away from Ross’s body. “Dad teaches the boys that people who kill are monsters. Their duty is to kill the monsters…” his voice trailed off.
* * * * * *
Prentiss ran towards the holding cells leaving Reid to bring Hotch. Her gun had been left untouched by Anna’s visit, and after pausing briefly to retrieve it from temporary lock-up, she was ready to confront Dean “No, Winchester,” she corrected herself mentally.
In other circumstances she would have removed herself from duty due to mental instability, but given the dearth of available officers in the building it was her or let Winchester at Davis. The demon enjoyed taunting her with memories of past interactions with Dean Winchester; she knew the cruelty he was capable of inflicting to win against the monsters. He had knowingly killed Meg, the girl the demon had possessed he was most familiar with, in the course of interrogating the demon for information on his father. He had been told the exorcism would kill the girl, and he hadn’t cared.
Prentiss wondered absently what type of monster he thought Davis was, or if he had graduated to killing humans who acted like monsters.
“Ready?” Hotch asked quietly from behind her.
She jumped slightly; she’d been so absorbed in her thoughts that she hadn’t heard him approach. “On three,” she proposed.
They pushed open the door to the holding cells and rounded the corner warily. Hotch taking the left, Prentiss the right, and Reid behind them. The more Prentiss thought about this, the worse an idea it appeared. Hotch was still bleeding sluggishly, and his gun arm was trembling slightly. Reid couldn’t hold a gun and move at the same time. And she was trying to hold off a mental breakdown.
She wondered if Henricksen had had these types of problems when dealing with Dean Winchester.
There was a body slumped over the small desk in the corner of the hallway. After a quick examination, Hotch determined Officer Jones was breathing and had most likely been knocked out.
Prentiss could hear voices from around the corner. Davis was begging for his life, “Please! Please don’t kill me!”
Dean’s voice was hard, “Did you give those women a chance when you burnt their houses down Henry? How about those hikers you’ve been munching on the past year? And what about those kiddies-your kind likes them, right? When you’re taking off with them, you going to listen to their cries?”
“Winchester!” Hotch said tightly. “Put down the gun. He’s in custody, he’ll get what he deserves, but it has to be done legally. Don’t do this.”
“Dude, you just saw one of your agents, who was possessed by a demon, get exorcised by an angel. Put the whole monster hunter thing into a little context, please,” Dean replied sarcastically. He held a shotgun to Davis head steadily, having fashioned a makeshift scabbard for his sword from a belt. It seemed in addition to knocking out Officer Jones, Dean had stolen his belt as well.
“I hunt monsters, you now know monsters-Dracula, Casper, and all their fucked up friends-exist and like to kill people. Now put it all together big guy,” Dean finished sarcastically.
“No, you’re wrong,” Reid insisted. “He’s not a creature, just a very sick man. He killed those women by tampering with their homes. We have a confession-we can show you if you want. We have transcripts and a bit of video.”
Dean turned towards Reid and opened his mouth to retort. Whatever brilliant rhetoric was to have come from the young man was never realized as a bright light filled the area.
BOOM!
The sound was overwhelming. When combined with the bright light, it was as if a flashbang grenade had exploded.
When Prentiss regained her senses, she began coughing. The room had filled with dust and debris. Where had that come from?
“Son of a bitch!” she heard dimly. She looked around for the source, but stopped after seeing the exterior wall of the holding cell. Or rather, what used to be the exterior wall of the holding cell.
Now there was a large hole in the wall. A cool breeze was clearing the dust rapidly, but the three federal agents and the now single felon continued to blink dumbly at the change.
Prentiss could make out a large dark shape against the moonlit sky, a large bird was flying northwest, most likely towards the park, but there was no sign of Davis on the ground.
“Shit, things never go to plan,” Winchester exclaimed as he looked out of the jagged hole worriedly.
“You had a plan?” Reid asked incredulously.
Part Four
The tall man wasn’t what he had been expected. Six foot six didn’t sound too much taller than his own five-eleven on paper, but in person Sam Winchester towered over him, Morgan too for that matter. The younger Winchester was fit, like his brother, but Sam was lean where his brother was bulky. And all that size did very little to disguise the fact that Sam was young. “This guy is younger than Reid,” Rossi thought distractedly.
Of course, Reid wasn’t a murdering scumbag, so beyond youth and height, the comparisons stopped there. Rossi pushed Winchester to move him away from the body. The man hadn’t stopped talking since the agents had discovered him, sawed-off shotgun in hand, standing over the body of their missing Park Ranger, Joan Ross.
Along with the usual “this isn’t what it looks like” and “you don’t understand what really happened,” Rossi had particularly enjoyed, “she isn’t human-no really, you have to believe me!”
That last statement was telling. Rossi figured that somewhere between Winchester’s mother’s death, a complete dearth of female mentor figures, being raised by a man no doubt in the throws of a psychotic break, and constantly companioned by a brother with psychotic urges, Sam Winchester came to view women as inferior, inhuman creatures.
And Henricksen had thought he was the lesser of the two evils.
Rossi started to walk Winchester back towards the parked SUVs. Without cell reception, someone would have to stay with the body until they could get back into range to call the station. Morgan and JJ had apparently realized the same thing; Rossi could hear a game of “who owes who more favors” being played quietly behind him.
A clap of thunder filled the previously tranquil night air. Winchester flinched and stopped to look around warily.
“You’re afraid of thunder?” JJ asked incredulously.
“No,” Winchester responded defensively. “Just what comes with thunder in this town.”
Rossi couldn’t see Morgan, but he could almost hear his eyebrow rise quizzically.
Never one to turn down a chance to get a better understanding of a suspect’s mind, Rossi asked, “What do you mean by that Sam?”
The tall man started forward again, surprising Rossi who had to take a few quick steps to remain leading. His gun was out, but he didn’t want to take any chances-even with Winchester’s hands cuffed.
“You didn’t notice the fact that Angela Martin, Lizzie Brown, and Amber-lynn Gordon all died during thunder storms?” Winchester responded.
“That was the work of an arsonist, Henry Davis-“ Morgan started to explain.
“Not in the way you think,” Winchester interrupted. “Davis and Ross over there are, or used to be in Ross’ case, Thunderbirds.”
“They’re Fords?” Rossi asked doubtfully.
“No.”
Looking behind him, Rossi could see the expression on Winchester’s face clearly implied “you dolt.”
“Native American and First Nation tribes across the United States and Canada have stories of supernatural birds of power, strength, and extraordinary strength. They’re depicted as intelligent, power, and wrathful. When they beat their wings they create the sound of thunder. They create winds and control rainfall, thunder, and lightning,” Winchester explained.
“I don’t know,” JJ replied. “Both Davis and Ross don’t look much like birds.”
Both she and Morgan were following Rossi to the car. Either they hadn’t come to a decision of who would stay with the body or they wanted to hear Winchester’s delusions explained.
Winchester sighed. “The Kwakwaka'wakw and Cowichan tribes believed that the Thunderbirds could take human form. The Thunderbird just tilts its beak back, removes its feathers like a blanket and it’s good to go.”
“Let me make sure I’ve got this straight,” Morgan demanded incredulously. “Davis is actually a giant mythological bird who has the power to turn into a human. And has been using this power to burn down the houses of local nurses by tampering with their wiring.”
“Kind of,” Winchester replied calmly. “Only, we think he killed them by throwing lightning at their houses-Thunderbirds control all aspects of storms. He’d be able to call one up whenever he wanted, then just wait till he’s sure they’re inside and chuck lightning at them.”
“So how does Ross tie into this?” Rossi asked curiously.
“Did you know that over ninety percent of bird species are monogamous?” Winchester answered. “Thunderbirds also have a pair bond, and Ross and Davis were bonded.”
He continued his strange explanation. “Of course, we didn’t know who Davis was bonded with when we realized he was killing all those women. Just thought there’d be another one in the area given the recent problem they’ve been having with missing hikers. Thunderbirds are carnivorous, by the way. Some stories have them eating whales, others humans. Apparently these two liked people better.” Winchester shrugged, as if there was no accounting for taste.
“Sam,” JJ asked quietly. “We were supposed to meet another police officer here, Officer Campbell. Did you do anything to her?”
“How do you think I realized Ross was a Thunderbird?” Winchester replied. At their blank looks, he explained further. “I guess Ross needed a midnight snack.”
He gestured with his head to the north. “You’ll find what’s left of her over there.”
* * * * * *
Prentiss could hear Hotch and Reid peppering Dean with questions, but couldn’t bring herself to care about his answers. The demon had shown her it was all too real. Emily shuddered in remembrance of its dark touch; it stripped her down to her core, forcing her to relive her darkest and vilest memories over and over again. She remembered its dark laugh when it let her watch what it was doing in her body-lying to Rossi to ensure all the able-bodied agents would leave the station, toying with Winchester, hurling the harshest insults it could find in her thoughts at her teammates.
How were they going to trust her again after this?
She and Reid had been slowly repairing their friendship over their mutual love for British science-fiction television and spy movies. Reid had been one of the first to welcome her to the team three years ago, but his struggle with addiction destroyed their fledgling friendship quickly.
And now she had thrown it back in his face.
She didn’t even want to think about how long it would take for him to forgive her for bringing up his mother. Or for mocking his fear that he might one day develop the same schizophrenia that destroyed his mother’s life.
She drew her arms around herself protectively. She tried to listen to the conversation between her coworkers and the Hunter. She didn’t want to think about what it had shown her of her own fate.
“Who was that woman?” Hotch asked again. Apparently Dean had been ignoring him while playing with the balance of his new sword.
“Anna’s an angel,” Dean replied simply.
Prentiss remembered the demon’s sharp fear when the petite redhead had suddenly appeared. At the time she couldn’t understand why the slight and almost fragile looking woman could scare the creature that controlled her every movement, but then Anna started walking towards her.
The demon had loosened control on her body, and Prentiss had wanted to get away from the newcomer. The previously human image continued to be stripped away the longer the redhead remained in the room, leaving a figure of terrible brightness in the interrogation room. As it had steadily advanced, Prentiss remembered the fierce joy that filled her body-the foul thing would get what it deserved.
It had placed a hand on her head and freed her with a single word.
“When Prentiss there was touched by an angel, it killed Meg-the demon possessing her,” Dean continued.
“It hurt,” she whispered. “It clawed and it fought.”
“That sucks,” Dean responded. “You’re lucky, though. Usually the demons wear their hosts to the bone before they leave-and the host dies once they check out.”
“So why did the angel show up?” Hotch questioned.
“Hell if I know,” Dean responded. “They aren’t exactly the fuzzy bunnies shown on ‘Touched by an Angel.’ Most of ‘em are douches.”
“Still,” he continued, “Anna’s helped me and Sam out a couple times. I guess she must have been in the area and wanted to kick some demon ass.”
“She was in the area?” Hotch repeated incredulously. “A biblical being of light and a messenger of God just decided to visit Jackson, Missouri and pass the time by killing a demon and giving you a sword?”
“Their reputation has been highly exaggerated,” Winchester responded.
“It was terrified of her,” Prentiss added. She shifted uncomfortably on the floor. “The demon, I mean, it was terrified of her.”
Winchester held up a hand, “I’m not saying they’re not powerful, just that they aren’t the cute naked babies of puppies and sunshine everyone thinks.” He suddenly focused his attention on Prentiss and changed the subject brusquely. “How much were you awake for? Meg claimed twenty minutes back there, but she was a fucking liar.”
Reeling, it took Prentiss a moment to respond. “It felt like forever…it got me just before I started interviewing you.”
“Why do you refer to it as ‘Meg’?” Reid asked curiously. “Prentiss doesn’t.”
“Meg was the name of her host when we first met,” Dean explained. He started to pace up and down the linoleum hallway.
“What happened to her?” Reid questioned.
“Managed to catch Meg and exorcise her, but by that point the girl’s body was too damaged. She died.” Winchester shot them an unreadable look. “As I said, as much as it sucks, you’re pretty lucky.”
He stared to play with the sword again, this time switching it from hand to hand aimlessly. “I gotta take a leak,” he announced before bounding down the hallway and taking a quick left.
“Don’t get any ideas,” Hotch warned his quickly retreating back. He turned to his two agents, surveying them quickly.
It wasn’t pretty. Hotch’s shoulder throbbed angrily, reminding him he needed medical attention, Reid was crutches and looked to be having a metaphysical crisis of faith, and Prentiss was shell-shocked.
“You two stay here for a moment, I’m going to try to find Officer Jones-he was supposed to be in an office somewhere finishing paperwork,” Hotch said. “Though I’m still not sure how to explain this.”
Prentiss and Reid were alone in the hallway. “I keep thinking back to that case in March,” Prentiss whispered to Reid. “I was so sure that Father Silvano killed those men…” her voice trailed off. “He said we made the world a more dangerous place. My god, what if he was right? What if he really was helping those families and we stopped him?”
“I’m not sure,” Reid replied softly, awkwardly sliding down the wall to join her sitting on the floor. “All the victims were restrained. You, sorry, it was strong. I’m not sure that ropes alone would have been enough if they were truly possessed. Plus, we didn’t see any designs like that,” Reid pointed to the red sharpie circle decorating the interrogation room’s ceiling.
“It never even crossed my mind that he could be helping those families,” Prentiss confessed guiltily. “All I could think was that this was the Catholic Church, coming in to take advantage of those family’s fears. Trying to bring the sheep back into the fold.”
“They did that to me, you know?” It was as if she couldn’t control the words coming out of her mouth. If she could, she wouldn’t have picked Reid to confide in-not about this. But she couldn’t keep its voice out of her head, telling her that Father Gamino was right about her all those years ago. The images it had shown her of where she would go to pay for her sins. Talking drowned those images and words, and Reid was a sympathetic, if slightly unfitting, listener.
“They told me that if I didn’t do it their way, I’d be inviting the devil into me,” she breathed in raggedly. “Maybe they did know something after all.”
“Emily,” Reid started, gripping her shoulder tightly. “I know you. I can’t say I knew you then, but I know you now. There’s no way you would ever invite this. You’re a good person.”
It wasn’t enough, but it was a start. Prentiss and Reid sat in the dark hallway for a long moment, simply breathing in and out.
“I hurt my knee playing DDR with Garcia,” Reid blurted out suddenly.
Emily looked at him strangely. “DDR?” she asked.
“It’s a video game,” he mumbled.
She hunched over, her shoulders shaking slightly at first, then heavily. Her howls of laughter filled the air. Reid would have been concerned with the slightly hysterical twinge if he hadn’t been sure his own laughter was reflecting the same pitch.
After a beat, Reid turned to Prentiss. “Emily, Winchester said he was going to the bathroom, right?”
At her nod, he asked, “Then why did he turn to go towards the holding cell?”
* * * * * *
“Remind me again how Rossi managed to pull guarding Winchester while we got stuck combing the forest for Campbell?” Morgan asked JJ after stumbling over yet another tree root. Though the moon was full, the foliage was dense and far too many shadows hid tree roots, rocks, and other fun surprises that continued to remind Morgan’s knees why he had quit college football.
“Because he’s a crafty bastard sometimes?” JJ replied crankily.
“Sometimes?” Morgan asked as he poked a bush experimentally with his boot.
“Good point,” JJ acknowledged. “Nothing over here, ready to move up?”
Rossi had asked them to do a quick grid search while he started to question Winchester. While they had initially planned to bring Winchester in immediately and leave a team member, most likely Morgan himself, to secure the scene, JJ suggested a quick grid search. By examining Winchester’s dumpsite, they could start to build a profile for Sam.
Morgan let out a disgusted snort. They had spent so much time and energy on Dean Winchester that they had ignored his partner-in-crime. No matter that Henricksen had done the same thing-they were supposed to have approached the St. Louis murders (and the Baltimore murders, and the Milwaukee robbery, and the Green River County escape for that matter) with fresh eyes.
“All set, another ten feet?” Morgan replied. As he cautiously stepped forward, he asked her, “What do you think the deal with the Thunderbird thing is?”
“Winchester’s monster story?” JJ said. “Well, it sounded like it was a Native American myth. Reid said that this area was created in memorial of those who died on the Trail of Tears-maybe it was a Cherokee story? Winchester recognized the area’s significance and tried to find the first monster story that dealt with fire to pin on Davis? I don’t know, isn’t this more your area than mine?”
“Woah, JJ,” Morgan held his hands up defensively. “Didn’t mean to tread on your toes there. Just wondered what you thought, was all.”
“Sorry, it’s just late and I’m missing Henry,” JJ replied sheepishly. “Still nothing, you?”
“Nothing yet,” he replied. He took a few more steps forward and saw a dark shape near a tree a few paces to his left. “Wait, hold on, I think I might have something here.”
As he approached the smell of blood hit his nose sharply. Slowly a body appeared from the darkness, crumpled against the trunk of a large oak. It was a woman, Morgan observed as he drew closer, and she had died very violently. While her face was relatively unscathed, it was locked into an expression of primal fear. Morgan imagined that her arms might have been raised to protect her torso, but her body was too badly mangled to be positive.
A flash of metal caught his eye as he knelt down to examine the women more closely. He picked up a badge gingerly. “JJ, I found her badge-this is Officer Campbell,” he sad sadly.
As JJ hiked through the underbrush, Morgan examined the woman’s ruined torso closely. It was covered in deep gouges, and what was left of the flesh on her forearms was in ribbons. Her holster was empty.
“Hey JJ, can you look around for her gun?” Morgan asked. At her assent, he stood up and began to visualize the scene. “Campbell was hiking, probably trying to find Ross. She’s surprised, but managed to pull her gun out.”
He looked around the forest floor. “I see some shell cases, looks like she got two shots off before being attacked. Though…” he paused to think for a moment.
“What?” JJ asked. “Oh, and no gun yet. That might be something the boys have to find when it’s light out.”
“Officer Campbell was either mauled or tortured extensively with a large knife or machete judging by her wound patterns,” Morgan said slowly.
“And we found Winchester with a gun,” JJ replied. “Do you think he tossed a knife somewhere around here?”
“It’s possible, but if he tortured and killed Campbell, he would have been covered in blood,” Morgan replied. “And he isn’t. Judging by the lividity of the body, she’s only been dead a few hours at most. My guess is under an hour.”
“So he didn’t exactly have time for a shower before killing Ross,” JJ finished. “So who killed Campbell then?”
“I have a theory, but I want to check something out first.” Morgan replied. “I just want to examine Ross’ body one more time.”
Both Morgan and JJ hiked down to where they’d arrested Sam Winchester over Ranger Ross’ still body. After fifteen minutes of brisk walking, they arrived back in the clearing. The temporary cones Morgan had set earlier to mark the crime scene were still perched merrily on adjacent rocks, their florescent orange markings catching the moonlight easily.
Morgan pulled on his spare pair of gloves and delicately turned the body onto its back. They hadn’t wanted to disturb the scene earlier, but Morgan needed to confirm or disprove the niggling idea ringing inside his head.
Ross’ torso was covered in drying blood, which had stained her uniform dark brown in the moonlight.
JJ leaned over his shoulder to see what he was looking at. “Could this be from the gunshot wound?” JJ asked, immediately understanding why Morgan had disturbed the body.
Morgan shook his head. “No, Winchester got a clean head shot. Looks like a through and through. I don’t see any other open wounds-it’s probable that the blood on her torso isn’t hers.”
“Do you think it’s possible that Ross lured Campbell up to the park by calling in fake reports of missing hikers and vandalism?” JJ asked.
“It’s not a bad way to get victims,” Morgan replies. “Though not a good way to avoid detection.”
“So what? Winchester sees Ross attacking Campbell, chases her, then kills her with his shotgun?” JJ theorized.
“It’s possible that he and his brother are vigilantes,” Morgan said slowly, his brain whirling at the possibilities the physical evidence presented. “It would explain why the St. Louis victim is protecting him. And why Detective Ballard vouches for him.”
Morgan started to pace, careful to tread well away from Ross’s body. “Dad teaches the boys that people who kill are monsters. Their duty is to kill the monsters…” his voice trailed off.
* * * * * *
Prentiss ran towards the holding cells leaving Reid to bring Hotch. Her gun had been left untouched by Anna’s visit, and after pausing briefly to retrieve it from temporary lock-up, she was ready to confront Dean “No, Winchester,” she corrected herself mentally.
In other circumstances she would have removed herself from duty due to mental instability, but given the dearth of available officers in the building it was her or let Winchester at Davis. The demon enjoyed taunting her with memories of past interactions with Dean Winchester; she knew the cruelty he was capable of inflicting to win against the monsters. He had knowingly killed Meg, the girl the demon had possessed he was most familiar with, in the course of interrogating the demon for information on his father. He had been told the exorcism would kill the girl, and he hadn’t cared.
Prentiss wondered absently what type of monster he thought Davis was, or if he had graduated to killing humans who acted like monsters.
“Ready?” Hotch asked quietly from behind her.
She jumped slightly; she’d been so absorbed in her thoughts that she hadn’t heard him approach. “On three,” she proposed.
They pushed open the door to the holding cells and rounded the corner warily. Hotch taking the left, Prentiss the right, and Reid behind them. The more Prentiss thought about this, the worse an idea it appeared. Hotch was still bleeding sluggishly, and his gun arm was trembling slightly. Reid couldn’t hold a gun and move at the same time. And she was trying to hold off a mental breakdown.
She wondered if Henricksen had had these types of problems when dealing with Dean Winchester.
There was a body slumped over the small desk in the corner of the hallway. After a quick examination, Hotch determined Officer Jones was breathing and had most likely been knocked out.
Prentiss could hear voices from around the corner. Davis was begging for his life, “Please! Please don’t kill me!”
Dean’s voice was hard, “Did you give those women a chance when you burnt their houses down Henry? How about those hikers you’ve been munching on the past year? And what about those kiddies-your kind likes them, right? When you’re taking off with them, you going to listen to their cries?”
“Winchester!” Hotch said tightly. “Put down the gun. He’s in custody, he’ll get what he deserves, but it has to be done legally. Don’t do this.”
“Dude, you just saw one of your agents, who was possessed by a demon, get exorcised by an angel. Put the whole monster hunter thing into a little context, please,” Dean replied sarcastically. He held a shotgun to Davis head steadily, having fashioned a makeshift scabbard for his sword from a belt. It seemed in addition to knocking out Officer Jones, Dean had stolen his belt as well.
“I hunt monsters, you now know monsters-Dracula, Casper, and all their fucked up friends-exist and like to kill people. Now put it all together big guy,” Dean finished sarcastically.
“No, you’re wrong,” Reid insisted. “He’s not a creature, just a very sick man. He killed those women by tampering with their homes. We have a confession-we can show you if you want. We have transcripts and a bit of video.”
Dean turned towards Reid and opened his mouth to retort. Whatever brilliant rhetoric was to have come from the young man was never realized as a bright light filled the area.
BOOM!
The sound was overwhelming. When combined with the bright light, it was as if a flashbang grenade had exploded.
When Prentiss regained her senses, she began coughing. The room had filled with dust and debris. Where had that come from?
“Son of a bitch!” she heard dimly. She looked around for the source, but stopped after seeing the exterior wall of the holding cell. Or rather, what used to be the exterior wall of the holding cell.
Now there was a large hole in the wall. A cool breeze was clearing the dust rapidly, but the three federal agents and the now single felon continued to blink dumbly at the change.
Prentiss could make out a large dark shape against the moonlit sky, a large bird was flying northwest, most likely towards the park, but there was no sign of Davis on the ground.
“Shit, things never go to plan,” Winchester exclaimed as he looked out of the jagged hole worriedly.
“You had a plan?” Reid asked incredulously.
Part Four